


Politics

by Fwiffo



Series: Like Chasers [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:30:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fwiffo/pseuds/Fwiffo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd always tell you -"It's not about politics!  It's about the people who it affects!"</p><p>AU Fic in which Exiles are their respective Kid/Troll's adoptive parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Politics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abby](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Abby).



You had always had a good relationship with your dad. In fact, you could probably say it was the sort of relationship that plenty of people envied. It didn't matter that he wasn't your biological father. You knew this, of course, because he had told you openly that you were adopted. For some reason, you were okay with that. Sometimes you wondered if that's why he always seemed to need to prove himself as a competent father.

Sometimes you don't think he was trying to prove it to you, but to himself. But that didn't matter to you, because you loved him as much as any son would love their father.

Since he worked the graveyard shift, he was always gone when you woke up, but always there for you when you came home from school. Whenever you'd walk in the door, the smell food being cooked was unmistakable. Your dad tended to make breakfast food for dinner, but honestly you didn't mind. You wouldn't want to eat dinner food right after you had woken up either. You'd hear him ask how your day went as you wandered into the kitchen and you'd scope the counter he was working at. Silently, you'd remark to yourself how he was making too much. You thought this every time he cooked and you'd always be proven wrong.

You'd watch him scoop helping after helping onto his own plate while you rambled on and on about your day. He sat there and listened intently as he ate. The conversations you held were mostly one sided, since he always enjoyed listening to you talk about your day at school than him talking about his job.

After dinner, he'd let you run off to wherever you went. Most of the times you ran off into your room to do whatever you did on the computer. Sometimes, if it was the weekend, you'd hang out with your friends. Your dad was always good about giving you your space, because he understood that if you needed something you'd come to him before anyone else. As you wandered into bed, he walked out the door.

On some nights where you didn't want to hang out with anyone from school, or when your friends were offline and there was nothing to do, he'd pop his head into your room and ask if you wanted to play a board game. Or watch a movie. Or go out for ice cream. Or, anything, really. You'd always accept, of course, and at once you'd bolt out of your room and run off to whatever the two of you were going to do that night.

Just like at dinner, he never talked as much as you did. But that was just how your relationship worked, and both of you liked your dynamic. It suited you two. It made you both happy.

But sometimes, on nights where you'd sit on the hood of his car in some field that you had driven out to, just because, he'd talk more than you did. He'd talk about his dead end job and how he wasn't happy there. He'd talk about how much he loved you and about how happy he was that he had you in his life. He'd talk about anything that would come to his mind, and you knew it was your turn to listen.

A lot of the times, he'd talk about how he wanted to do something, make a difference. About how he wanted to make his mark, but not for himself, but for everyone else around him. Sometimes, just at random, he'd list off every single political office that there was the state, local, and national level and tried to explain to you what they all did. You'd led him ramble, and even though you didn't care or understand politics, you knew how important it was to your dad.

And he'd always tell you -"It's not about politics! It's about the people who it affects!"

If your dad had a favorite phrase, it was that one.

One day, you came home to boxes stacked wall to wall in your living room. Of course, your first plan of action was to freak the fuck out, which you did. When your dad popped up from behind a stack and told you he was running for mayor, all of the panic on your face disappeared only to be replaced by a ridiculous, stupid grin.

You didn't really know the details of the election process, but that didn't matter, because he did. You helped in any way you could: hanging up posters, passing out buttons, and anything else you could do to help get his name around.

You lived in a larger city, so when it came time for debates to happen, they were televised on more than just public access. As many times as you able to, you'd sit in the audience and listen to him talk. Sometimes you'd look around the room and look at everyone else around you. They always seemed bored.

But then you'd look back to your dad, and see the passion he had on his face as he spoke. When he spouted out facts and statistics, but he gave them all a sort of human connection, something that made those numbers seem relevant and real. That's when you'd go back to looking around, when you'd start to see the people start to light up, start to care about what he was saying.

You knew your dad was the best.

And you knew he was going to win the election.

And of course, he did.

When you came home from school, you noticed there was a new bounce in his step in the days before he actually took office. There was something that changed, something that clicked in him, and frankly you liked it. You were proud of him and you were happy for him.

After he was sworn in and had started working, he didn't arrive home before you very often anymore. Although you'd never admit it, you missed the smell of his cooking when coming home from school, but you knew he had something more important to do. You didn't mind, and when he did come home he was always happy to see you. He'd smile and cook dinner - actual dinner food - although it was later than you were used to. You'd still go out, play games, but you both just had to adjust to your new schedule.

Sooner or later, you can't remember which you don't really care to, he'd start coming home past dinner time. He'd give an excuse, but it didn't really matter to you. You knew that your dad was an important man now, so it was to be expected. The same smile would run across his face as he patted you on the head, thankful that you understood.

On the nights where there wasn't anything to do, where you were bored out of your mind and looking for some company, you'd wander into his study. He was working on something for some sort of bill this or some sort of resolution that, but he'd always have time to just ask you how you were doing. Sometimes, you'd ask him when the two of you could go out for a drive again, or get some ice cream, or go out to dinner.

"Soon," he'd say, grinning. "At least I hope so!"

You knew he was busy, and you understood.

Eventually, dinner started arriving later and later. It followed suit along with your dad, and when he arrived, he'd bring home more and more stacks of papers, more and more work. You would pass by his study, his figure hunched over his desk, mumbling something to himself. The more you looked at your dad, the more distant he became, like something was off about him. As if he wasn't your dad, he was just some impersonator who was here for the weekend, or the week, or the month...

But then you realized how silly you sounded - it's not like your dad had left, he was right there. He was just occupied with work now, he had a city to run.

Sometimes, you'd knock. He never noticed your knocks, at least not anymore.

When you finally got the courage to wander into his room one night and speak to him - something you realized that you haven't done in weeks -he immediately straightened up. He looked away from his work and smiled at you, the same familiar smile you knew. You asked him when you were going to hang out again, just the two of you. His eyes shifted to his work and then back to you.

"Friday."

"Really?"

"Friday, I promise," he said as he held out his hand. You shook it as you noticed that a smile had crept onto your own face as well.

School was unbearably long that Friday. Your eyes kept glancing over to the clock, just waiting for the entire ordeal to be over. Your dad and you had planned everything out - no work, no politics, no mayor talk allowed. It was just going to be you, him, a board game and your favorite movie.

There were no words to describe your excitement.

You ran home that day, just so you could set everything up. Of course, your dad wouldn't be home until later, but there was no point in delay. You set up the game, grabbed the movie, and then sat on the couch to watch TV until he came home.

Just like at school, you kept glancing at the clock, wondering when he would pop in the door. You ran over what would happen a thousand times in your head - but sometimes your mind couldn't decide if he would bring home dinner or make it before you guys got to hanging out. Just you two.

But time passed, and even though you had seen the same commercial seventeen times in the past couple of hours, there was no trace of your dad. You glanced at the clock again, wondering what your friends were doing. It was getting late, way later than you had ever expected. But that was okay, your dad made a promise. So what if he was a little late? It just meant staying up later with him, and everyone knew that the most fun happened at night.

You lost track of time, and almost immediately after that you had fallen asleep on the couch, movie clutched in your arms like some sort of stuffed animal substitute. You were awoken to the sound of the door opening and closing, but you kept your eyes closed.

You knew it was him, and there was something in the back of your head that didn't want to see him. You felt his presence over you, as if he was hesitating. Suddenly, you felt a blanket fall over you as the movie was removed from your arms. The TV went silent and as it did you heard footsteps traveling up the stairs.

Without opening your eyes, you reached down and grabbed the movie off of the floor. You hugged it tight back into your arms. You know for certain you didn't cry that night, but for some reason you remember hearing the noise of someone sobbing as you drifted back to sleep.


End file.
